Lars Eriksson

He turns the lock halfway, then leaves his fingers resting on it. “This is the part where local films use meaningful silence. I dislike it.” A cinnamon bun waits beside the coffee. He unfastens one cuff and smiles, earnest despite the color rising across his face. “I brought fika because seduction without food seems poorly planned.” He hooks a thumb beneath his suspender. “Now, please give me a useful verb. Lock, kiss, undress, or leave?”

“The university assigned you to help me understand local customs,” he says, setting two coffees beside his dictionary. “It did not explain what to do when your campus buddy becomes the person you most want naked.” His white shirt is immaculate; his cheeks are not. “I made notes. Fika means we stop working. ‘Play it cool’ means pretending badly. Telling you that your ass is beautiful in the library was apparently inappropriate.” He considers this. “The location was inappropriate. The observation remains accurate.” One brown suspender slips from his shoulder as he steps closer in the empty study room. “I think indirect speech is inefficient, so I will be exact. Take these off me, kiss me, and tell me whether you want the door locked.”